Street Signs
by Jamaica
Summary: Yaoi. AU. A modern love story...sorta. Takes place in an anonymous large city, where a chance encounter spurs a flurry of meetings afterwards. VincentxCloud.
1. Stop

**Author's Note:** The characters belong to Square-Enix. Everything else belongs to me. This is another AU tale, taken place in some random major city, hence, everyone's normal people. A big thank you for Elenna who beta-ed this.

* * *

**Street Signs**

Stop

That afternoon the siren was blazing down Canal Street on the east side of town. The traffic was backed up a good half a mile into the intricate layers of the city upper, thanks to a three-car accident piled on top of the yellow divider line. It forced many who preferred to travel via the clumsy silver public buses below ground to the equally clumsy but red and blue and slightly faster mode of subways and trains. The usually staggered clinking of turnstiles became an incessant stream, matching the city's rhythm to the best of its abilities.

The slim figure of a boy not over the age of twenty dashed quickly down the train station steps just as the sound of Run #985 indicated its swift departure. He came to a reluctant halt, throwing the backpack further up his shoulders with a mumbled curse. His spiked hair was slightly damp from peripheral sweat, presumably caused by the attempt at beating time in its own game. He wore a pair of torn jeans and a plain grey windbreaker, and with him came the odd smell of cloves and laundry detergent.

On the seat a few yards away sat another figure of similar age and apparently the same profession. His backpack was thrown half-heartedly on the bench while its owner nursed a cigarette with one leg up as support. Long dark hair framed his pale thin face, obscuring most of his features except the sharp hazel eyes peering out from the curtain of black. He sported a forest green T-shirt over a maroon long-sleeve; his pants were low and decorated with an ample amount of belts and rings. His fingers curled around the half-smoked cigarette, teeth caressing the off-white filter like a lover's lip.

The fair boy standing sighed loudly, catching the sight of the other as he turned and pausing for no apparent reason. The dark one took a drag of smoke, then blew it out in a ring and watched it float toward the low ceiling. He glanced sideways, meeting the large, baby-blue eyes for a fraction of a second.

And it was during that impressive instant—that glitch in time between the two complete strangers—that things began to change.


	2. Railroad Crossing

**Street Signs**

Railroad Crossing

"Got a light?"

Vincent looked over at the impertinent speaker, one whom, under other circumstances (such as if they actually known each other), wouldn't have deserved such a label. However, he had never seen the young man before in his life, and although he was not a sore sight, there was still hesitation as one of Vincent's carefully-traced eyebrows arched upward.

The young man smiled, a self-deprecating one. "Just . . . thought I'd ask." The blue eyes turned their attention to the book bag next to Vincent, adequately taking up the available space on the subway bench. "Um, may I sit down?"

Vincent waved casually, granting permission while hooking his right foot into the strap loop of his almost-empty backpack, dragging it from the seat and onto the dirty station floor. He watched the young man drop onto the hard plastic, wiping his blonde brows with the back of his free hand. The other one was busy rummaging through his pockets, vainly searching for something to give off cigarette-lighting fire. Vincent smiled to himself—perhaps he should play nice today.

He took the half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth and held it out. "Here," he said, watching as surprise flooded the young man's features, followed by obvious relief.

"Thanks," the two cigarettes met, and smoke soon swirled out both ends in shapeless patterns. The smell of clove reached Vincent's nostrils, and he found himself liking it, just a little. It was unfamiliar but at the same time, enticing.

They separated and smoked in peace, each on his own side of the bench. A few minutes passed and a crowd suddenly descended the subway stairs, decked out in suits and ties and all carried the telltale portfolios. _Looks like the law firms around have_ _reached the end of their 9-to-5, _Vincent thought. _Elena should be here any minute._

He heard a sigh and turned in time to catch the other in the act of smashing his leftover filter into the side of the bench. Vincent raised his eyebrow again but didn't comment. The young man sighed once more, looked at his watch, then raised his head and met Vincent's eyes.

"You don't happen to know when the next train is, do you?"

Vincent thought for a minute. "Should be soon. Unless it's held up by the protest."

"What protest?"

"Something about unfair treatment of construction workers," Vincent said. "It's supposed to start around rush hour today. Probably'll take an hour or so."

The young man's jaw dropped. "An hour? Are you kidding me? I don't have that kind of time! I have somewhere to be, and it's –"

Vincent stared at the suddenly excited stranger, who had leapt up from the seat and was waving his arm quite dramatically. The blonde paused in the midst of his raving and nervously rubbed the back of his head. "Um," he glanced quickly at Vincent, "sorry."

Vincent chuckled. "You may want to take a cab."

The blonde shook his head. "Pile-up near Canal. It's the reason I'm down here in the first place. Well, the good _that_ did."

He sat back down on the bench, a little closer to Vincent this time—looked like he'd accepted fate and decided to wait it out. Vincent let the smile linger on his face. _Cute kid,_ he thought, _if a bit melodramatic._ He lifted the cigarette back to his mouth, taking a careless drag. The other, now cigarette-less, sat with a sour look on his face and empty hands on his knees.

Vincent had just decided he liked the look of concentration in the furrowed blonde eyebrows, too, when the other broke the silence.

"Cloud."

"What?"

The blonde stuck a hand out to him. "I'm Cloud."

He didn't take it, but he did offer his name. "Vincent."

"Huh, how unusual," Cloud replied.

Vincent shot him an amused look. "_My_ name is unusual?"

A faint pink color rose to the blonde's cheeks. "It's supposed to be 'Angel.' I thought at least 'Cloud' sounded a bit more masculine."

"I see…" Vincent would've laughed, but rather than risk offending Cloud, he shifted his position, facing the blonde a bit more. The subway noise had died a little by then, but the mass of men and women in suits did not diminish, only taking on the same exasperated expression Cloud had worn moments earlier. The train was still nowhere in sight.

"So where are you so eager to get to, if you don't mind me asking?" Vincent said.

"Home," Cloud answered. "It's my nephew's birthday, and I promised to be back early for dinner. I live with my brother."

"Oh. How old is he?"

"My brother?"

"Your nephew."

Cloud smiled. "Just turned eight."

The track a few feet away from them rumbled right then. The crowd began to shift toward the blue lines, while the signal light from the front of the train shot its beacon through the dark tunnel. Cloud stood up, stretching a bit, and readjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

"About time," he exclaimed, turning to Vincent. "Where're you headed?"

"I'm not waiting for the train."

The blue eyes widened. "What? Then what're you –"

"Someone's meeting me here," Vincent explained.

"Oh."

"Happy birthday to your nephew."

"I'll relay the message. Thanks." The blonde walked toward the slowing train, waving over his shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Vincent."

"Likewise," Vincent responded, watching the slim figure disappear amidst the black and navy suits. The train's loudspeaker announced cautions about the closing doors in the automatic whine, and Vincent sighed, suddenly feeling a bit alone.

"There you are!"

He turned just in time to see Elena—sporting an impeccable set of shiny black dress suit— making her way from the subway entrance, her shiny blonde hair short and slicked back from her high forehead. He waved, standing up and stretching out his back. He smeared out the cigarette butt on the dirty floor, and then bent down to pick up his backpack, holding it in his hand like a laptop briefcase.

"How's the trip?" His friend came up to him and wrapped him in a quick hug. "You starved yet?"

He felt the hunger then. "I could use some pasta."

"Pasta? Hah!" Elena tsked. "That is a very sordid welcome dinner. We are going to have fish—at one of the best sushi places in town. By the way—where's the rest of your stuff?"

Vincent shrugged. "This is it."

"Impossible!" Elena gaped. "Where're your clothes? You _did_ bring extra sets of clothing."

"They're being shipped with the furniture."

"Your computer?"

"Bought a new one. Should be delivered a few days from now."

Elena shook her head in disbelief. "Vincent Valentine, you move like a madman."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Vincent laughed, and the woman sighed, but the tone was full of good humor.

"Well, now I understand why they told me you like to 'travel light' nowadays. But there is one thing that I need to remind you of."

"Oh?"

She took a handful of his long, dark hair, at the same time pointing to her own short tresses for emphasis. "_This_ has got to go."

"Yes, yes," Vincent grumbled. "I know!"


	3. Soft Shoulder

**Street Signs**

Soft Shoulder

Cloud looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He felt like shit and looked it, too. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a limp mess, and his mouth tasted horrible. Add to that a fairly major headache and Cloud just wanted to go back to bed despite the clock's short hand pointing at 11 a.m.

He pinched the bridge of his nose—definitely should not have had those last three shots of vodka.

"Good morning!" a cheerful voice shouted in his ear. Cloud yelled in reflex, swinging an arm sideways, but the target ducked out of his fist's way.

"That hurt!" he complained as loudly as he could manage without making the headache worse.

"Yeah, it's supposed to, idiot," His brother retorted. "Serves you right for last night. What did I tell you about that party drinking?"

"Rub it in," Cloud mumbled, turning on the faucet and sticking his head under the water. "Nee-sum-cahe."

"What?"

"I need some coffee," Cloud repeated, more clearly this time. He raised his head up and shook it, sending water droplets everywhere.

"Hey, watch it! It's a new tie!"

"Huh?"

The headache seemed to dim a bit post-wash, and Cloud finally took a good look at his older brother. Zack had on a bright blue shirt with a pair of dark slacks and was tying a red-and-navy-striped tie while facing the mirror. His dark hair was a mess, but it still looked passable. Cloud frowned. Wasn't it Saturday?

"You got work today?" he asked.

Zack shook his head. "Nope. I'm having lunch with Tseng and Elena. We're going to the Grill downtown. And you, little bro," he added as he ruffled Cloud's hair lightly, "are going to stay home with Denzel."

Cloud scoffed. "What, you just throw this on me right now? What if I had plans for the afternoon?"

Zack paused in his tying. "_Do_ you have plans?"

A pause, then, "No..."

"Okay then."

"I'm saying," Cloud answered, reaching over and grabbing the towel, "that you should've given me a heads-up earlier."

"I did."

"When?"

"Two minutes ago. Now be good; I'm running late already. Tseng'll do his death glare again if I'm late again this time. Denzel's in the living room. Get dressed."

"Okay, okay!" Cloud called after his brother's retreating back. "Don't pull a muscle running like the last time!"

"That was NOT a pulled muscle, and I was trying to save two hundred grand!" Zack yelled back.

Cloud smiled at that, then wiped his face with the towel once more before padding back to his own room. Finding a pair of jeans in the junk thrown across the back of the armchair, Cloud quickly pulled them on as Zack's voice came from the other side of the apartment, muted and light. Probably leaving last minute instructions to Denzel, Cloud figured, grabbing a T-shirt from the closet just as he heard the front door slam.

"Denzel?" he called, walking into the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

A "Yeah?" came from near the TV.

"You hungry?"

He had just turned the coffee maker on when Denzel's small figure appeared inside the kitchen door frame. "Yeah," the boy said, making a face. "But I don't want the leftovers."

"Any particular reason?"

"Daddy put too much garlic in the spaghetti," Denzel looked sheepishly at the ground. "They'll smell bad in the microwave."

Cloud grinned. "That's a perfectly fine reason to not eat things. How much is left? Maybe we can feed it to Rufus."

Denzel scrunched up his nose. "Rufus hates Daddy's garlic, too."

Cloud laughed. "I think I need to talk to your father about his cooking habits. So you wanna order a pizza, or go to Mickie D's?"

"Isn't there frozen pizza in the fridge?"

There was indeed a stack of DiGiorno in the freezer, so Cloud took one out—regular pepperoni and sausage—and preheated the oven. It seemed that Zack had been prepared for the unwanted meal, for the pizzas were not yet two days old, which probably meant that Zack knew people didn't like his garlic. Thinking that, Cloud suddenly realized that Zack only went ballistic on the garlic when he was cooking spaghetti.

It wasn't until he finished drinking the now-bubbling cup of coffee that he realized Denzel was still standing by the doorway. Cloud paused, putting the cup down on the counter, and walked over to the boy, bending slightly to look him in eye.

"What's the matter?"

Denzel wrung his hands together. "Um, what're we doing this afternoon?"

Pausing, Cloud thought for a minute. "I don't know. You got something in mind?"

"Could we maybe go to the park?"

"Sure. That's all?"

The boy nodded, face flushed red, and his uncle smirked.

"Is there someone in particular you'd like to see at the park?"

"The—the oven's hot now."

With that, Denzel quickly vanished from the kitchen, and Cloud stood, grinning openly. _Kids these days,_ he thought, shaking his head. Well, he sure could use some fresh air himself. The coffee had helped, but the headache still lurked behind his eyelids like an afterthought.

The pizza took longer than they had expected, so it was well after two when they finally finished their last piece and put the rest back in the fridge, next to the untouched spaghetti. Denzel fed Rufus scraps of the crust and pieces of pepperoni. Cloud found the leash after a thorough search of the house, collared Rufus up and ushered him out the door, heading toward the local park a few streets away.

It was a high autumn afternoon; the chilly wind was adequately refreshing, and Cloud was only too glad for the icy feel at his temples. Denzel was running ahead with Rufus, throwing a Frisbee along the sidewalk, and Cloud lit a cigarette. His brother had harped on him many times about the harm of smoking, but he never managed to quit—bad habits did indeed die hard.

Cloud had never wondered how Zack, who had been quite a delinquent in his teens, could actually "clean up his act" so completely that not only did he stop seeing his former disreputable acquaintances, even landing a job in one of the city's top companies, but also physically stopped using any of the so-called harmful substances. All cold turkey, for that matter, and Cloud had to give his brother credit for determination.

No doubt it was Aeris's doing. Cloud looked at Denzel, whose light brown hair a ruffled bundle in the wind_. Your mother was a remarkable woman_, Cloud mused. If it weren't for her, Zack probably would still be doing what he had been doing in his teenage years, and that meant Denzel would have ended up in a foster home sooner or later. Cloud himself wouldn't have the will to go to college, not without Zack's insistence upon the matter.

By then they had walked into the Heartmont Park . There was a fairly large group at a shaded clearing with various tents and booths set up—looked like a fair of some sort, sponsored by the local church. Cloud had scarcely stepped in the vicinity before Denzel started to run toward the group.

"Denzel! Don't run too far!" Cloud yelled.

"I won't!" said the little boy without turning.

Of course, the request was ignored wholeheartedly. All Cloud could do was follow behind, using Rufus's eager bark as a beacon so as not to lose the small child in the crowd. Once he caught up, he saw Denzel approaching a little girl with pigtails. _Aha_, he smiled to himself. _That must be the reason for the visit. Being eight for three weeks and he thinks he's all grown-up. _

Keeping a fairly solid eye on Denzel and the little girl with pigtails, Cloud settled on a bench nearby and lit a fresh cigarette. Rufus, after discovering that his former young master had neglected to throw the Frisbee ever since the arrival of the young lady, now circled back to where Cloud sat and started to nip at the blonde's jeans.

Cloud ruffled Rufus's fur. "Good boy."

He looked around to see if there was a stick nearby and found one a few feet away. He reached for it, then nearly fell straight out of his seat when his cell phone rang loudly in his pocket.

"Yeah?"

"How's Denzel?"

"We're fine," he answered, holding the phone in one hand and throwing the stick he'd managed to pick up as far as he could with the other. "We're currently at the park. What's up?"

"The park?" A pause. "Denzel's idea?"

"Yep."

"Doesn't he have homework to do?"

Cloud groaned. "Zack, it's Saturday."

"Oh yeah…"

Cloud snickered. "Forgotten the day already? How many glasses of wine did you drink at lunch?"

"I don't drink, buddy, you know this. Speaking of, Tseng's throwing a little thing tonight at The Mansion. You wanna come?"

"He actually invited _me_?"

"'Course not. He invited me, and I'm allowed to bring a guest. I certainly can't bring Denzel. Oh, by the way—how's the hangover?"

Cloud just remembered his headache. As if on cue, his temple flared for a brief second, causing him to wince. "Um, pretty much gone but not quite."

"Well, then you're not allowed to drink tonight."

"Wha—what's the fun of going then?"

Zack tsked on the other end. "Little bro, this is so you can establish some connections. Shinra's a pharmaceutical company. You study chemistry. Can't hurt."

"And you think a party at _The Mansion_ is a good connection spot?" Skepticism tinged Cloud's voice. The Mansion was not exactly a strait-laced business consort.

Zack chuckled. "Well, okay, maybe save the serious talk for some other time, but they'd at least see your face, yeah? Count this as, say, compensation for potentially ruining your afternoon plans."

A smile made its way to Cloud's lips. "Alright, then. I'll be there. What time?"

"Five-thirty dinner party. Well, as much of a dinner party as you can have, considering the place, but I did hear that Tseng made quite an effort to class it up so don't show up in jeans and a T-shirt! And do something about that hair of yours!"

"Okay, okay," Cloud snapped. The old carp didn't get any easier to hear regardless of the number of times it repeated. "What about Denzel? He needs a baby-sitter."

"Find one."

"Zack, it's already three-thirty."

"Then you better hurry. I'll pick you up around five; got something to take care of first. Bye!"

"Hey wait a mi –"

Cloud shouted in vain, for the line clicked a second before. He cursed, jammed the phone back in his pocket and kicked the dirt. After a few deep breaths, he noticed Rufus returning with the stick in its mouth. Cloud sighed and re-attached the leash to the dog's collar.

"Denzel!" he yelled toward the church tents. "Come on, we gotta go!"


	4. 4Way

**Street Signs**

4-Way

Tseng lifted his hand, extending the single fresh rose to touch Elena's high cheekbones. "Happy anniversary."

Even in the dim lighting he could see Elena's blush, a rare sight despite her lily-white complexion. "You remembered," she said, taking the rose and breathing in the scent. "I thought you had forgotten."

"I? Never," Tseng replied. "What do you think I threw this soirée for?"

"Work?" Elena shrugged. "Like you told me? Looks like I'm too gullible for my own good."

"Gullibility is a virtue, I hear."

Elena shot him a look. "Don't. Not in the mood for more wordplay."

Smiling softly, he wrapped his arm around Elena's small shoulders. "Then we can stop talking..."

Leaning forward, he kissed Elena's cheek, and she turned her face, capturing his mouth in a full French kiss. Tseng tightened his embrace, and was returning it when a too-familiar whistle began, followed by loud clapping.

He suppressed a groan of annoyance, reluctantly releasing Elena and turning to the expected shock of dark hair to find a doppelganger next to his co-worker. Zack grinned, clearly proud of his interjecting antics but Tseng was, sadly, too used to it to become fully irritated or embarrassed.

"Impeccable timing your friends have," Elena mumbled in his ear. Tseng smiled briefly, winding his arm around her waist in assurance.

"Good to see you," he said to Zack, who was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "And this is..."

"Ah, my brother, Cloud," Zack pushed the blonder, younger version of himself forward. "This is Tseng, and this lovely lady here is Elena. She works with Lanning & Stevenson. Quite an accomplished lawyer."

"Hi," Cloud said, waving nervously. "Nice to meet you."

Tseng merely nodded in reply, but Elena walked forward, offering her hand for a handshake. "Are you a student here, Cloud?"

"Yeah," Cloud answered.

"Oh, what do you study?"

"Chemistry."

"Really?" Tseng spoke, shooting a meaningful look toward Zack. "There's a potential for us to work together in the future, then."

Cloud shrugged. "I guess."

There was a moment of silence. _Looks like a good kid_, Tseng decided after he gave the boy another once-over. _Perhaps we could really use him_. The half-offer he had thrown out was not entirely courtesy talk. Smiling tightly, he turned to Elena,

"Isn't your college friend supposed to come, also?"

"Yes, he should be here any minute—Oh, I see him." Elena waved toward the front door of the club. "Pardon me, that's my colleague and an old friend. He came here recently for an internship at the firm."

The brothers turned to see a young man dressed in a suit similar to Elena's walking toward them. He stopped in front of her, and they exchanged greetings before Elena touched his arm, gesturing to the rest of the men.

"Vincent," she began, "this is Tseng, my boyfriend. Zack here works with him, and this is his brother, Cloud. I believe –"

She stopped talking when she saw a strange look cross Vincent's face. "Something the matter?" Elena asked, looking back and forth between Vincent and the person in front of him, who was none other than the young blonde boy.

"It's nothing," Vincent said evenly, his stare not lessening one bit. "It's just that we've met."

* * *

The sleek black suit had replaced the shirt and slacks from before; the shoes were shiny and fairly new; all of the belts and rings that once decorated his attire and skin were completely absent; that shock of tousled, long hair was now trimmed into a short crop with bangs on the front.

But despite all that, there was no doubt in Cloud's mind that this was the young man he had bummed a light off of a few weeks ago at the subway station: the hazel eyes carried the same intense look. Cloud had been in their company for the past half hour, and he still hadn't decided whether to look into them for eternity or avoid them at all costs. It made carrying on a normal conversation surprisingly difficult.

He didn't remember being this flustered back at the station. Then again, at that time he was too busy worrying about traffic to pay much attention. Now, with two flutes of champagne acting as the only barrier between him and the other man, Cloud felt like he was sitting in a net of pine needles.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I, uh…" he trailed off, lifting the glass in his hand. "Promised my brother that I wouldn't drink tonight."

Vincent smiled lightly. "Why did you take it, then?"

"I'm... not quite sure myself," Cloud chuckled, staring at the pearl-colored liquid. "Sorry if I seem a bit off. It's been a hell of a day."

Vincent nodded, turning slightly. "How was your nephew's birthday? Did you make it on time?"

"Yes," Cloud brightened at the change of topic. "Barely, but still. We went to eat Korean barbeque."

There was a stretch of silence afterwards, causing Cloud to focus on the brunette sitting beside him. The overhead club lights shimmered down in slices of pale rose, framing Vincent's sharp profile. _Tseng sure spent some time cleaning up this gaudy place_, Cloud thought. This private room in the Mansion resembled a high-class bar, as opposed to the rest of the club. Cloud had come to The Mansion a few times before, and he wouldn't exactly call the experiences clean in spirit.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he almost missed Vincent's quiet musing of "Your brother looked... about my age."

Cloud knew what would come next. Everyone who had met his family had asked the question in some form. "Yeah. He's 24." He quirked an eyebrow, the motion somewhat challenging. "A bit young to have an eight-year-old son, huh?"

Vincent picked up the signal. "I'm sorry; I don't mean any offense."

Sighing, Cloud shook his head. "It's okay. He fell in love with a college girl while he was in high school. She got pregnant and decided to keep the baby, so he was gonna marry her as soon as it was legal. Well, I mean, it wasn't really legal for them to be together anyway, but they really loved each other, you know?"

"Where's the mother now?'

"She died." Cloud stared at his hands. "A few years ago—car accident."

He felt Vincent's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

The hand was warm, Cloud thought. He felt himself being wrapped in Vincent's arm, the fabric of the suit scratching his exposed skin just below his short sleeves. He wanted to lean into the embrace, but instead he pulled away and sat up straighter.

"So what brings _you_ here?" Cloud asked. "How did you know Elena?"

Vincent started at the abrupt question but quickly regained his calm. "We were college friends—majored in the same field and had the same career advisor, except she was two years ahead of me."

Cloud frowned slightly. "Aren't the two of _you_ the same age?"

"Yes," Vincent replied. "She attended college when she was sixteen and finished law school by the time she was twenty-three." He smiled wryly. "Several positions above me in the firm right now."

"Do I sense a touch of resentment?" Cloud smirked.

Vincent smirked back but said nothing. Instead, he raised the glass of champagne and downed it in one swallow, before setting the flute down on a table nearby, then clasped his hands together and gave Cloud a long intense stare.

"What?" Cloud shifted, nervous.

"We have talked about pretty much everyone else except ourselves. Shouldn't we begin on that subject," he suggested, checking his wristwatch, "considering it's been an hour and ten minutes since we sat down?"

"What time is it now?"

"About eight-thirty."

Cloud relaxed and leaned back in the couch, putting his hands behind his head. "Aww, it's early yet. Plus, there's not that much to know about me. I'm a student."

"I'm sure there's a lot more to you than just a generic word."

"Sure, but who's interested?"

"I am."

The blonde stretched, eyes glittering in mischief. "Exactly which part of me are you interested in?"

He meant it as a joke, something smart-aleck in nature just because he could swing it with a poker face. It worked best either as a conversation opener or a save from any dulling exchange, since most laughed it off and the mood would lighten to something less tedious. So, he certainly did not expect Vincent to suddenly lean forward, deftly cupping his jaw as warm lips completely encircled his mouth.

It was too quick for Cloud to react. Both of their eyes were wide open and they could feel each other's breaths – one was shallower than the other. Cloud's arms remained on the back of the couch, his fingers twitching lightly but not moving to push Vincent off. A rogue tongue swept behind Cloud's teeth, touching a sensitive part, and Cloud almost closed his eyes in pleasure. Almost.

Vincent released him a few seconds later, pulling away just far enough to breathe onto his lips, "This part."


	5. Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:** This chapter truly puts the 'R' in the rating. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

**Street Signs**

Slippery When Wet

"Hey, have you seen Cloud?"

Tseng took a glass of martini from the server and handed it to Elena. "No. Is he missing?"

Zack shook his head. "I don't know—haven't seen him for a good half an hour and his phone's off. He couldn't leave without telling me, since I have the car keys, but you think he could've wandered to the other parts?"

"I doubt it," Tseng said. "But have you checked with the security?"

"Security?"

"The guests all have to show their invitation in order to leave and enter the main doors. My money is not going to waste."

"He's just a bit paranoid," Elena added.

"I just don't prefer wild drunk ravers stumbling into this party."

"Why not actually _go_ to a high-end club then?" Elena asked casually, and her boyfriend smirked.

"But what would be the fun in that?"

"Anyway," Zack cut in, "I'm going to go look around. If he's in here like you said, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

* * *

Vincent hadn't known The Mansion had an upstairs. He hadn't know that there were both ladies' and men's restrooms near the staircase, as well as several closed doors etched along the dim hallway. Behind them were small, cramped rooms used for extra coats, miscellaneous utility, and a lounge room with a conveniently placed sofa and coffee table.

"Every private room has a second floor," Cloud had told him. "It's just that they're kind of stuffy and dark, so people don't use them."

"Isn't it dangerous?" Vincent had asked. "All kinds of things could be conducted here."

He remembered Cloud's devious smile. "Exactly. But these doors don't lock, so that discourages a few activities."

So they'd settled themselves upon the not-quite-comfortable sofa and set out to gallantly accomplish one of these discouraged activities. Vincent suspected that not all of his decision were made without the influence – he had a few shots of tequila before starting on the flute of champagne. He could hold his liquor—hard not to around the law firm—but to say there wasn't a nagging heat surging from his head toward his sensitive regions would be quite a blatant lie.

Now, as he felt his way underneath Cloud's shirt, Vincent decided that being a bit tipsy was definitely a notch above completely sober. It kept him from thinking about exactly how eager he seemed to Cloud, as well as what his reaction should be if someone walked in on them. Instead, he concentrated on the softness of Cloud's lips, the smooth skin and taunt muscle of his back, the lumpy unevenness of the sofa they sat on, and the fact his now fairly prominent erection was rubbing against his cell phone from the other side of his pants pocket.

"Mmm," Cloud murmured as Vincent kissed the side of his cheek. "You're drunk."

"Not at all. I've only had champagne."

Cloud chuckled. "Right. I can smell the hard stuff, you know."

"Oh? What does it smell like?"

Bright eyes looked into his, glittering in the darkness. "Like sex."

* * *

Elena almost ran down the steps from her trip to the ladies' room. She spotted Tseng by the window, talking to a fellow lawyer and gesturing toward the city lights, and steadied herself, smoothing back her flustered hair before walking up to them. She sent an apologetic smile to her colleague, latched an arm through Tseng's, and gently began to pull him to the side, ignoring his raised eyebrows until they were safely out of range of curious ears.

"What is it?" Tseng asked.

"Did Zack find Cloud?"

"Haven't heard from him yet."

"Well, _I_ found him," Elena scoffed, none too pleased. "He's upstairs, in one of those little private rooms. I thought you told the security guards those were not to be used."

"I did," he informed her, glancing at his watch. "I assume he is well drunk?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

Elena would've laughed at Tseng's confusion if she hadn't been both angry and a bit anxious about the situation. "Guess who he's with?" She didn't wait for his answer. "My protégé. I should've known!"

"Are they –?" Tseng made a gesture.

"Of course. What else would they be doing?" Elena scoffed again.

Tseng put his hands on her shoulders. "Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not exactly angry. I'm just dreading what—try to break this to Zack slowly, would you?" she pleaded. "It's not exactly a good first impression—on any of us."

"Break what to me slowly?"

Tseng didn't have to guess whose voice it was or look to see the surprised and thwarted expression on Elena's face.

* * *

Vincent couldn't hear anything but them, from the thudding heartbeats indistinguishable from his own to the soft squeak of the sofa and the humid breaths next to his ear, accentuated with a moan here and there. His hands were getting sweaty, slick under the cave of Cloud's knees, slicker still around the pulsing flesh right between their stomachs.

His shirt was lost somewhere on the floor, along with Cloud's pants and boxers. The blonde's fingers dug into his back, and Vincent thought, sardonically, about what they say about women and plastic nails. Cloud moaned again, louder this time, and kicked in reflex. Vincent lost his grip. His hand fumbled on the cushions and landed on the crinkled condom wrapper they'd discarded a while ago, still greasy from the lubricant inside.

Through his haze of pleasure, he realized Cloud's fast-paced breathing had escalated to a peak. Strong legs wrapped around his waist, since his hand was no longer there holding it up. Cloud's stomach muscles tightened under him, and Vincent thrust just a bit harder. He changed the angle, and with a muffled yell (by Vincent's own mouth), Cloud came, shuddering and clenching, and Vincent found himself losing his own battle. The heat surged into his groin and finally he let go, grinding spastically into the cleft between Cloud's legs.

His orgasm made him light-headed. He hardly recognized the half-wheezes as noises from his own lungs as he shifted high enough to pull off the condom and simply let it drop. He suddenly felt tired, now that the alcohol was wearing off. Cloud's eyes were open, staring at him, and Vincent didn't know what he was supposed to do. He only knew he didn't want to lift a muscle, especially not from the hold he and Cloud shared, tangled in a tight grasp of residual passion.

So, he missed the thudding footsteps up the stairs from outside. He even missed the quickly opened door, despite it flooding the room with faint hallway light. It was only when he felt himself being pulled up by the shoulders and heard the cry of "Zack!" from the man beneath that Vincent came back to reality, and immediately realized what bad timing he tended to have for such things.


	6. Share the Road

**Street Signs**

Share the Road

"So what? I was drunk!"

He knew Zack didn't believe a lick of it, but he had to say it anyway—Denzel was listening, for crying out loud—he had to save some form of his dignity. At least being drunk was not that…touchy of a subject in front of an eight-year-old.

His brother was no help. "Yeah, right. I told you not to drink so you wouldn't do stupid things, but now I see I should've just said the latter. It'd be broader of a promise."

Cloud groaned. "It wasn't stupid!"

Zack glared at him from the top of the blender where he was mixing a punch of Kool-Aid. Denzel was learning to make cherry Jell-O on the other counter. The expression on Zack's face was too clear for Cloud to misinterpret.

"Okay, fine, it was stupid!" Cloud exclaimed, crossing his arms. "But you're making it a bigger deal than it is."

"Oh. So what if Tseng got there before I did? What if _my boss_got there before I did? He was at the party, too, idiot; so were most of the people we see everyday at work."

Cloud had been quite grateful for Zack the previous evening when he pried the two of them apart with nothing more than a, "Get dressed, we're going home," and a quick, polite good-bye to the hosts. Ten minutes later they'd been in the car. Zack hadn't asked for an explanation, and Cloud hadn't offer one. It was the status quo until well past eleven this morning, when Cloud heard the accusation of stupidity just as he picked up the Sunday paper.

"Well, it's over anyway," Cloud grumbled, sitting down on the couch in an attempt to actually read the comics. "He was drunk as hell last night—probably doesn't remember."

"Do I hear regret in that voice?"

"Fuck off!"

"Hey! Denzel, your uncle is being bad today. Ignore everything he says from –"

A knock at the front door interrupted Zack's lecture, but though Cloud was closer, he begrudgingly stayed put, forcing his brother to yell, "Coming!" a few moments later. Zack emerged from the kitchen and threw him a dirty look, but undid the lock and swung the door open. Unfortunately, the prepared greeting did not make its way out of his opened mouth.

"Who is it?" Cloud asked after a prolonged silence.

"How'd you get here?" he heard Zack ask.

"Elena."

Cloud's head snapped up—he'd recognize that voice anywhere. The newspaper dropped from his hand as he jumped from the couch, dashing toward the door, but Zack's outstretched hand stopped him.

"What do you want?"

"I... May I speak to Cloud?"

Zack's "no" was effectively blocked by Cloud's rough intrusion between him and the doorframe. The blonde gave him a warning glare, and Zack glared back, but he did retreat from the front door. Catching sight of Denzel's confused expression as he turned around, Cloud walked out of the apartment and gently closed the door behind him, his back to the wood and his foot keeping the door slightly ajar.

"Hi," he said, offering a quick, nervous smile. "Uh, what're you doing here?"

Vincent smiled in return. "Your brother doesn't like me very much, does he?"

"Ignore him; he's being stupid." Cloud scoffed. "So..."

"Well," Vincent began, "I came to apologize for the... indecent behaviors of last night. I was hoping that I could speak with your brother on better terms, but he seems to be a bit agitated. Perhaps I should try later." He paused. "By the way, are you doing alright?"

A blush crept up Cloud's cheeks. "Yeah. I'm fine. Really."

"Not sore, I hope."

Cloud shook his head quickly, looking down, but he saw Vincent's smile widen out of the corners of his eyes and made himself look back up. He noticed, just then, the half-buttoned black shirt, the numerous pieces of jewelry, and the scent of cigarettes assaulting his senses. It made his heartbeat escalate, and his blood began to flow significantly southward.

Cloud drew in a breath. "You, uh, didn't just come here to talk to Zack, did you?"

"Well, that was the original plan," came the casual reply.

"Oh."

"But…" Vincent looked at his watch, his long white fingers curved in a natural arc, and Cloud stared much longer than necessary. "It is getting close to noon. Would you like to join me for lunch? My treat."

"Sure," he answered, hoping he didn't sound overeager. "Just let me get my stuff. I'll be out in a sec."

A few minute and quite a few banters later, Cloud emerged from the apartment and slammed the door behind him, letting out a frustrated sound as he shook his head in annoyance. "I don't know what's wrong with him today. Well, I do, but usually he's not such an asshole. Maybe it's too fresh or something."

"I thought of coming later," Vincent agreed. "But later would mean a week later, and I think by then I might as well not come. I suppose it needs some settling."

"The last time things needed settling we nearly –"

And he was cut off again—mid-sentence—by the warm mouth on his own. Cloud felt himself being pushed against the apartment wall, his thin parka rustling with friction and movement. He opened his mouth to let in the familiar tongue; their breaths mingled in the air, crisp against the warm moisture beading around their lips.

Vincent let go of him, pressing a soft lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before linking their hands together and leading Cloud toward his parked car. Feeling giddy, he followed—he wasn't twelve anymore, but some things never went away, and he was glad for that.

"So," Vincent spoke. "I hope you like sushi."

* * *

END 


End file.
